You may have noticed I haven't written a new post in a while (undisciplined).
And frankly, there have been a lot of reasons for that (laziness).
I've been unbelievably busy with work (couch potato). I've had family obligations (binge watching). I've been concentrating on other projects (lotto tickets).
But I did want to take a few minutes out of my busy schedule (napping) to do something I have never done before—offer a bit of advice to my fellow blogger and swing dance instructor Rich Siegel over at Round Seventeen.
Now, normally I don't make it my business to tell anyone else how to do theirs. I don't give other parents advice on how to raise their kids, although God knows with the devil spawn some of them have unleashed on the planet they could use it. I don't offer relationship advice, even though I know the secret to a long and trouble-free relationship most married men find out soon enough involves two words: Yes dear.
But since Rich is a friend of mine, I want the best for him and his blog because, and I think if you're followed me for any length of time and gotten past the crippling disappointment, you know I'm a giver.
So here's the advice: It's time to change the name of your blog. Not that Round Seventeen isn't a fine name, but based on my personal experience as of late, I don't think it's an accurate one anymore.
I can't remember the last time copy got routed less than seventeen times. For starters, once I've used up the entire three to four hours I get to craft a compelling brand story people will relate to, find humor in and want to know more about, it first has to get routed through several of what I like to euphemistically call layers.
The account team.
Strategy.
Account planner.
Product specialist.
Legal.
Associate creative director.
Group creative director.
Proofreading.
Executive creative director.
The cleaning lady on three.
And, if I'm lucky, then it finally makes its way to the client.
That's ten stops it has to make before it gets out the door. And if any of those people have a change, suggestion, idea, whim, opinion, thinks something's missing, thinks something else should be included, forwards a suggestion (mandatory) from the client or just. doesn't. get. it., then, as if I'd written it on a boomerang, it comes back to me for revisions.
After they're made, some well-meaning, highly intelligent, over-worked, underpaid and incredibly organized project manager gets to route it through all those people again. And again. And again.
Every time an "and" gets added. A "the" needs to be included. Disclaimers have to be changed (as if anyone reads them-thanks legal). Something gets underlined. A word gets bolded. An accolade gets deleted. Whatever the change, the copy suits up and does another lap.
By the time it gets back to me to sign off on, we're on round twenty eight. At least. Of course, as any writer in an agency will tell you, it'd be great if it stopped at twenty-eight. But sadly, predictably, it doesn't.
What people don't know about advertising is it's a lot like Groundhog's Day—the same assignments keep coming back over and over until the powers that be decide it's been watered down, legalesed and tamed enough to make it out the door to the client for their changes. I mean approval.
Now, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. And as I read this over, I see that would be easy to do. Great work, classic advertising, the kind you remember and talk about for years—I'm looking at you Apple 1984 spot—doesn't happen the first time out. I'm fairly certain anything good I've done and I'm proud of took plenty of victory laps around the agency before it saw the light of day. So I do realize in some cases, this painstaking and often frustrating process has its upside.
Anyway Rich, you don't have to do it today, but you probably want to think about a more realistic number for the old blog title. Of course I suppose it's possible a writer of your caliber may not have to go more than seventeen rounds.
And if that's the case, just forget I said anything.
